Downfall of the Flame, Part One
by sinewave
Summary: There is a flame that burns silently in Mossflower.


Disclaimer: Redwall isn't mine, I didn't make it up, yadda, yadda, yadda.. Brian Jacques isn't my love slave, whom I somehow stole the copyright papers from... And so on.. Basically I don't own Redwall, OK? 

Downfall of the Flame 

Evening shadows drew away from the earth as the first lights of dawn became barely visible. Dark blue tinged with purple and light shades of pink and yellow as the sun slowly began to peek over the horizon. 

This time of the year the trees were in full bloom. Beautiful green and burgundy adorned the aspens, whilst ash were crowned with tan and brown. Birds darted from tree to tree, some trying to draw nearer to the flame. 

The Eternal flame. 

The fire from the Merale, dragons from the Fire Lizard Mountain. Legend told that it was a gift given unto the woodlanders in return for recovering the queen's brood from searats and vermin. 

The king, after awarding the courageous woodlanders the torch, had said, "As long as it burns, you shall all be protected by our watchful eyes, our fiery breaths, and our powerful claws. No harm will come to any under the protection of our flame. This is certain." Unfortunately, the last of the dragons had died out long, long ago. The same couldn't be said for the flame. Now almost completely forgotten, it burned contentedly in a completely uninhabited part of Mossflower Country. No creature had visited the flame, save the birds, for countless seasons. It burned in solitary, upon a throne of smelted gold, shaped into the mountain of eternity, Salamandastron. 

Viciously it licked and thrashed, casting illuminating shadows upon the fresh forest floor. The crackle of distant brush told that it was soon not to be so lonely anymore. 

~*~*~ 

"Ow. My paws hurt, Pilo. Can we please stop and rest for the night?" 

"Quit your bellyaching. We're not stoppin' til we get to the rendezvous point at the burned elm. Not a pace before." 

"But it's so dark I can barely see my paws in front of my face. See, I bet I can't even touch my nose." 

" Xerio, that's not yer face! Leggo of my nose you idiotic frogbrain!" 

A ferret and weasel were patrolling the Mossflower area near their campsite, but their quarreling had set them off track, and now they were hopelessly lost, they just didn't know it yet. Pilo the ferret was a veritable rock of confidence. He spoke his mind and didn't bother thinking if he would hurt his comrade's feelings with his distasteful, sometimes tacky and hurtful remarks. His sleek streamlined body gave him speed and agility, but he had missed out in the brains department. His ego would get the best of him someday, and his habit of not looking before he leapt would cost him dearly in future escapades. Pilo had always felt he was better than Xerio the weasel, a strange blond colored little number with the shyness to qualify him in the fieldmouse genre, and made his opinion known often. 

"You dumbskull, keep on blabbering and yer gonna wake the wildcat! Is that what you want? I'll tell him you were callin' and y'wanted to see if he had some free time, if he would like to come out an' make some daisy chains with you! Ha Ha Ha!" Pilo held his sides as he heaved with mirth. 

"Pilo, you know that's just a silly rumor! There's no wildcat in the Mossflower country. Any sensible creature knows that." Xerio sniffed disdainfully after replying, looking at some unknown object with his supernatural-looking blue eyes. This was to keep from having to make eye contact with the ferocious ferret who would no doubt eat him alive for that comment. 

Instead of snapping back at the weasel, Pilo's interest was concentrated on something else. Xerio looked up, wincing, then closed his eyes tight; waiting to be struck either physically or verbally. After neither of the inevitable happened, Xerio opened a cautious eye. "Pilo?" The ferret had disappeared. 

"Roooowwwrrr!" Xerio almost jumped out of his skin! 

Frantically turning to face the direction from which the sound came, he decided it was nothing to get worked up over. It was probably just Pilo pulling one of his pranks. Xerio sighed then called to his 'friend'. "Pilo, you're not funny! Come out right now! You're not fooling anyone!" When there was no answer, he called again, deciding to mask his terror with arrogance. Xerio immediately awoke from this charade the second time the ferocious growl rumbled through his eardrums. "Rrrrrowwwwl!" 

"W-who's there? Come out right now, or I'll, I'll, Ahhhhhhhhh!" In a blond-brown flash Xerio turned and fled the site, paws flailing. Hot in his pursuit was perhaps the largest wildcat in the history of Mossflower. 

~*~*~ 

The atmospheric swishing, washing of the tides lapped rhythmically upon the banks off Western Sea. Clear blue water washed the sandy beaches of Salamandastron, cleansing the tide line of blood and bodies. The war was done. No more lives would slip into oblivion, never to return to their homes, families, and little ones. No more sadness would befall the creatures of the Eternal Mountain that day. Dawn break had brought with it a beautiful rainbow, it was almost as if the spirits of the passed were merging to attempt to bring a sort of closure to the ones they had left behind. 

A lone hare gazed up at the waning moon. 'Still visible in the day, that must mean the rainy season will soon be upon us,' he thought to himself, attempting to forget the fact that he had just lost his whole family to the vermin hordes that had been ravaging his home just hours earlier. This was no time for sadness, Pario thought. He was now old enough to care for himself. He was, in fact, the second in command of the ranks of Salamandastron, next to the Badger Lord Kaveh. But alas, none of this seemed to matter at this time of mourning. Try as he might, he just couldn't banish the images of his dying loved ones from his mind. Pario didn't even know why they were fighting. The vermin sort of showed up and the soldiers and Long Patrol hares of Salamandastron just attacked. 

It all was over with as soon as it had begun. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Life seemed surreal to this abandoned 'child'. Thinking of his haremaid friend, Isabella, lightened his mood momentarily, she was back at Redwall Abbey, his first home. Yet, his happiness dissipated as quickly as the light from the setting sun as it journeyed unto the next day. Walking along the blood-laden beach, he stumbled upon the body of a tiny leveret. This struck a deep chord within his heart. Pario unsheathed his rapier, gazing empathetically at the body. Another form caught his eye. A searat lay mortally injured, not far from the leveret, moaning miserably. Pario gripped his rapier, and with a cry of anger, grief, and frustration, lashed furiously at the near-corpse of the searat. He struck until his weary limbs could strike no more. 

With an emotional sigh, he collapsed on the soft yellow sand, facing away from the rat's mangled remains. Pario gazed unto the endless ocean, giver, and taker of life. He took a quick drink of the salty water, his thirst overtaking him. Faint tinges of blood could be tasted in the water, and Pario quickly spat the repulsive stuff out. Even the ocean fell victim to war. A tear escaped his once cold, emotionless eyes. He quickly wiped it away with his baggy sleeve of his captain's uniform, stood up and attempted to regain his composure. This was not him. He was a strong, fearless warrior who showed no emotion, and definitely did not cry. 

But yet, who was he kidding? Standing here bawling like a leveret? 

"Pario! Pario, is that you?" He had no time to ponder these thoughts. Pario swung around swiftly, and saw a hare's form jogging towards him. He grappled his rapier in a state of uneasiness. "Whoa, careful where you point that thing, mate! About to put my jolly eye out!" Aurek, a fellow captain, stood eyeing his comrade suspiciously. His eyes traveled over Pario's tear streaked face, down his blood specked uniform, and stopped on Pario's rapier, covered in dark red blood. "But on a different note, what are doing poking that bloody sword at me like I was here for your head?" 

Pario sheathed his rapier cautiously. He never had trusted Aurek, or liked him for that matter. He just seemed so phony, but Pario was a nice creature, so he was continually polite. 

"Oh, I..." He sniffed and rubbed his nose again. "I was searching for survivors and you just caught me off guard." Aurek looked incredulous. He cocked his head a bit to the side, seeming to try and get into Pario's head and find if he was telling the truth. "Pario, old lad, there's not any survivors." Pario looked somewhat more saddened by this obvious statement. Aurek suddenly noticed a deep gash running down his comrade's thigh, cutting deep through his captain's cloak and white clothing. "But look at you, your leg!" Pario's leg had been jabbed deeply with a ferret's dagger, but the searing pain was forgotten the moment his warrior instinct took over. "Oh, that. Bah, I'll live. There's more important things to take care of at the moment." 

Aurek looked expectantly at his friend. "Like what?" Pario began limping towards Salamandastron, the king of earth and sky as it blocked both out . Without even turning his head, Pario replied in a monotonous tone. Aurek, who was now following in a short hop-skip, listened intently. "Like what we're going to do about the flame, and the ceremonies for the passed." His eyes turned cold as he finished, and glared pitilessly at vermin corpses as they were passed. The first part of his statement was lost upon Aurek. Flame? 

~*~*~ 

After running for a good half-hour, Xerio was completely exhausted. His legs felt numb. His vision was becoming shady. His head was swimming, but from physical exertion. After he felt that his pursuer had given up, he slackened his pace to slow steps. "I don't think that was Pilo, chap. Ha, but if the kitty cat got a hold of him I doubt that even his mum would recognize his mug now! " Xerio froze. "But it was a bally good job that you saved your own hide!" 

A tall, lanky hare suddenly appeared in front of the stunned weasel. He produced a small gold chain from seemingly thin air and began swinging it playfully. "Wot, you scared of a little ol' hare like me? Oh, I won't bring any harm to you, Mr. Weasel." "Rather. Barely escaped your fate just there, y'old swiftleg, eh?" Another hare appeared beside the first one, this one short and plump. His voice bubbled with enthusiasm as he bobbed up and down on the lush forest floor, making a soft crackling noise. "Wellpon, be still, bucko, you'll get the cat after us, too." The taller cuffed the plump hare's ear, thwacking it with the gold chain, then replacing it somewhere in the multi-pocketed robe he wore. The little hare sat dismally. The moon slowly rose above the trees of Mossflower as the three below the canopy stood in a moment of awkward silence. Xerio, with his normal friendly disposition finally surfacing after recovering from the initial shock, broke the silence first. "So, what are you hares doing about in th-?" Wellpon looked up at the bigger hare as he suddenly clasped a paw over Xerio's mouth. "Shh.. We best take quick leave of this place. The wildcat might return. Let's head home, then we can chat and get some tuck for the reigning champion wildcat-wrestler." A glint of jest in his eye, the taller released the weasel's mouth and, turning around, headed out into the darkened forest underbrush. "Where's home?" Xerio couldn't help himself. A smile playing on his well-whiskered mouth, but without turning to see if the newfound friend was in hearing range, the hare replied in a simple whisper: "Salamandastron." Xerio heard the name of the legendary mountain perfectly, but that doesn't mean he believed it. Not yet, anyway. "What do you mean, Salamandastron?" Wellpon hopped alongside the disbelieving weasel. "Ha, you'll see soon enough, Mister!" The three headed deep into the late spring forest, making a slow curve toward the seashore, they traveled all into the morn the next day, in almost complete silence. A lone owl that remained awake resumed its repetitive hooting, accenting the crickets and other insects also orchestrating the night scene unfolding around them. 


End file.
